Turquoise
by southern cross
Summary: J/C Set post S7E1. She turned around and he was gone. He had held his breath but her answer was no. What was is not what could be.
1. day One of Seven

This story evolved place. I am gearing up for Nano 2008 and working to much so this was thrown together when I should have been 1 working and 2 focusing on my Nano. So this was the result. And for the record, yes, I am a huge Cake fan and not so much at all a fan of Eric. Set post S6E1 so be aware of potential spoilers. I own nothing and mean no harm and would love reviews as this is my first CSI fic. Thanks and please enjoy.

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By the time the adrenaline had soaked back in her body and her thoughts had cleared it had been too late. By the time the anger had abated and the shame had creeped up it was almost too late. By the time the fear had begun the real gut wrenching terror her time was up.

Jake was gone.

His phone was disconnected.

His name erased from the hearts and minds of his coworkers.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Without consideration for her work or her well being she had dived back into the life of Jake Berkeley. Had stood in the middle of his silent apartment until the pressure made her scream. had banged on every cops door only to have them shut firmly in her face. Had promised favors, called in debts, had begged Horatio, Horatio, to work his magic for her.

Desperation was not something she did well, but she did it with her whole heart and soul.

He couldn't really be gone, the thought had woken with her every day. At every turn she expected him to be there. A crooked grin and wild hair, a 'Hello beautiful,' on his lips. But he was never there.

He was gone.

Gone because she had called him in to help.

Gone because he had blown his cover in the worst way.

Gone because of her.

Gone for her.

Gone.

She wasn't sure when she had become such a selfish bitch. Such a cold one. How could she have done that. Asked that of him and in some fit of self-righteous selfishness shut him out.

She couldn't wait for him.

It was ludicrous. he could give up his case, his reputation, his almost life for her and she couldn't wait for him.

'Bitch.'

It hurt too much.

'Fucking Bitch.'

More than once she had seen a look in the fellow agents he had worked with. The disappointment, the hostility, they couldn't quite mask at the mention of his name. He was persona non grata there was danger to be sure, he had to be expunged to save his life, but it was clear that he had thrown a case. Weeks of undercover work wasted.

For her.

What the hell had she been thinking? Now that had a simple enough answer.

She hadn't.

No, she was a spoiled little girl at times and at no time had she acted worse than then.

His leaving, her revelation, it had trickled into all areas of her life.

The others were worried about her. Poor Eric had tried to be understanding, had tried to be there for her, and she loved him for it. Months he had waited and hoped and she had not been able to smile at him quite like he wanted. Eventually he had stopped waiting and for that she was glad. Natalia had offered a sympathetic ear, and while she hadn't accepted, the offer warmed her. Only Ryan had had an inkling, why, she didn't know, but when those nights had rolled around and he had shown up with tequila or jack, she had opened the door wide.

That had helped. The mind numbing alcohol had chased away the pain and the shame and the fear.

But only for a night.

A handful of hours she had breathed deeply again.

Only to wake up and have the ache return.

These days like most days, she walled up the feelings. Ever the cool and professional CSI no one would know, at a glance, that her heart was broken. It was only when the wall became too thick, too high, that Horatio would catch her eye, and she would see the dead space of her eyes reflecting back in his and the pain would burst free. Those days she would go home , would crawl under the covers and weep and scream and tell him everything she should have said, would be saying if he were here.

Here and not Gone.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, 2009, Valentine's Day, Memorial Day, she marked her time in major holidays now. One more occasion to be reminded of how alone she was. Alone because of her mouth and her choice and her fear.

So the days were finally longer again, the daylight staying as long as they were going to, and for that she was grateful. At night it was always the worst because at night she missed him the most.

The heat was as pure as it was able to be, the wet season had yet to arrive, and every ounce of discomfort was welcome. She wasn't in trouble until the pain being inflicted was brought on by her own punishment. But there were other types of punishment. And she had become an expert at them all. Not a day passed that she did not call or question or inquire.

The doors slamming in her face had become rote. The profanity and frustration aimed at her bounced off thick armor.

But she would not forget, would not go away, would not stop waiting.

It probably wasn't healthy, this single minded ambition, she wouldn't call it obsession, to find him and make things right, but she would not let it go.

Not even when the doubts would creep in. Those were the worse days. The ones that had her beating and sweating in the gym until even her brain was tired.

What if he had heard about her quest.

What if he didn't care.

What if he had found someone else.

-was touching, kissing, laughing, calling someone else 'beautiful'

What if?

What if?

Her biceps had never been so defined.

In no area was she certain anymore, in no area except one. Protecting his life, protecting his name, it was a job she would be successful in. Behind the wall of blue magic had been worked, a hint here, a whisper there, and it was revealed that the undercover officer involved with the Crypt Kings was none other than Kurt Fielding. Honored with bringing down the gang, a hit had been put out on the man, the name, the ghost.

After the arrests and revelations the self-destruction had begun. Each member of the Crypt Kings who had slipped through the initial bust that had come anywhere near Jake had been become her focus. She had become as familiar with those Ten as her closest friends. It had been her mission, her duty, to make them pay when Jake couldn't.

They had never seen her coming with her contacts and forensics she had successfully locked away the Ten. Ten lowlifes had been out and free while he was gone and one by one she had served justice to their door.

All had had priors, all had crimes steeped in special circumstances, and all had been scattered through the Federal Penitentiary System. None would ever set foot in the Florida Panhandle or any of its neighboring states again.

The last of them had been shipped to Illinois last week. That case had been the hardest. Following that trail the toughest. Staying within the boundaries of the law, not wanting to jeopardize a conviction, when he had had no such boundaries. She had been a little bit lucky and a whole lot of determined and success had come.

And then it was over, they were all gone, and Miami streets were finally, finally safe for him to walk down.

The elation had been short lived. Without a focus, without a purpose, the first day off after the transport bus had left Florida had been hard. The hardest day since the day after he had first left.

There had been empty hours. Nothing to research, no leads to follow. There had been aimless wondering by foot, by car, and the day had finally ended. Not a moment too soon.

Horatio had been concerned, had insisted on a vacation or simply time away from work, from Miami, had had her pack her bags and shipped out on a plane.

He had sent her here.

Back to Antigua.

Horatio would never presume that a week away from work would ease the pain, he knew better, but he had surmised that a place where the memories were clean and good, well it might just help. So she was sent where the air was warm and the thoughts could be good.

It was a clear sign of just how messed up her head was that she was sitting at the foot of a white sandy beach, the gorgeous water spread out in front of her and all she could think about was him.

But this was day One of Seven days and she would not let her heart stay so heavy the whole time. She would walk and swim and eat and soak in the moment. Remembering the good time they had shared here. Today she would take for the pain, would sift and sort through it all and then lock it away.

Her bungalow, one of several nestled right up on the beach, was small and rather sparsely furnished, but the view was breath taking. The rooms flowed one to the other and the ceiling high windows were continually open scenting the air with the sea.

Even now from the deck, she was close enough to the water that her people watching could be quite specific.

Honeymooners, families, retirees, new money, old money, stolen money, she could see them all.

All would be well, and a small smile would finally appear and she would hear a bit of a throaty laugh, catch a glimpse of wild hair, and her chest would tighten.

But it wasn't him.

He was gone.

That man was as tall as him and that Father had the same hairy legs, the newlywed had his hands glued to his bride in a manner so familiar she felt his palm on her abdomen.

God she missed him.

Perhaps it was fitting that she had dug out that turquoise bikini. The one she had bought especially for him, the one only his eyes had ever seen, since he had taken one look at her in it and carried her off to bed. He'd made her swear never to wear it again without his hands covering the bits that were showing to much.

She had laughed with him, had surrendered to his fingers, and would have promised him the world.

The world yes, but, she hadn't promised to wait.

She was wearing it now. It was perhaps a bit looser. The days of workouts had their ramifications. Tucked away on the deck, she was fairly certain no one could see her clearly, she really didn't want to break that promise to him, but just in case she had wrapped a brightly printed sarong around her waist before sinking into the rattan chair.

Maybe if she just sat here, right here, sipping on Pina Coladas, for the rest of time all would be well. Sounded good. But maybe not. Not when so may shapes and angles reminded her of him.

Like that one there.

In faded jeans and a white button shirt open to the air, she could almost see his profile if she squinted hard enough.

Could be.

Almost.

But wasn't.

He was gone.


	2. Everything Upended

Hello all, I give thanks to those who reviewed it means a lot, given that this isn't the most popular of pairings (although I really don't get why not!) I hope this chapter flows well, I had a bit of trouble with it, and cross your fingers that the final installment gets done before Nano. Please enjoy and reviews are great.

Auto pilot had saved his ass plenty of times. Once he sank into an alias it was the automatic responses that had kept him from tripping up and saying the wrong thing, going left instead of right.

That afternoon that reflex had been his saving grace. With his mind numb and his heart broken he had no real recollection of clearing town. Of relocating up North, he had wanted as far away from sun and sand as he could get.

The high peaks of the Shenandoah's had certainly fit the bill. West Virginia had been about as familiar to him as Mars but the rough land and scenic views had come to be a balm on wounds that he could not name.

Not waiting.

Not waiting.

Over and over her soft words laced with steel and the harsh ring of truth, echoed over and over in his head.

Not waiting.

Early on, you know, when the corners of his eyes didn't have such distinct character lines, he had accepted that his life would be a dangerous one. There would be risks and sacrifices that he would have to make if he was going to make a difference, go so far into unmentionable places, to be the best.

And he had made them, had accepted them, over and over, for years.

Not once had he complained, not once had he turned away from a difficult or outrageous assignment.

But then he had never considered the sacrifice the people in his life, or the people he wanted in his life, would have to make. For that he had been unprepared.

How dare he ask for so much when he gave so little? How dare he ask her to wait when what she would only get in return was him?

Not waiting.

He didn't blame her; couldn't. He wouldn't wait for him either. For her though, for her he would wait a lifetime. But then he had always needed her more. He had always been the one in pursuit. Had always been the one to call first. It had been the way of their thing.

And now it was over.

Her life was not on hold for him. His life however was at a complete stand still.

Calleigh was the one.

His one.

And he had made a mess of things, had not handled well what he had been handed. If he had done better, been more, said aloud what was inside, maybe, if, and should have might now be a reality.

Those thoughts were the most damaging. When caught unawares his mind would run and spin with unchecked thoughts. Work would help. The activity, the focus, would keep those thoughts at bay, except the work that had so consumed him no longer called to him.

The itch and burn to move and fight had not surfaced once.

A fucked up cosmic joke and a major dose of too little too late.

He was damned good at his job. Undercover work had been his calling. Slipping on the mask and sinking into the muck to root out scum; that had been his strength.

No more.

That had been clear the second he had slipped from that stash house with those guns. He would never be able to not be Jake Berkeley again. Her call to him had been stronger.

Too bad he hadn't had the time to tell her.

Too bad he wouldn't be able to tell her.

Because she wasn't waiting.

His recall had always been good, almost as impressive as his imagination, both a key characteristic of a good UC cop. One had to absolutely believe the lie, that the change was real, the life was true, and he had never been unmasked.

Not once.

Subsequently the days spent locked in his head, recalling their good moments, rewriting their bad ones, consumed him.

As a patrolman for the Department of Natural Resources it was his duty to take to the winding mountain road, looking for stranded motorists, or locals up to no good. The work wasn't hard, but solitary, lending lots of hours for his mind to wander unchecked.

Too many times he had taken a hair pin turn way to fast and could practically hear her voice admonishing him.

Pathetic.

Unhealthy.

Uncontrollable.

He missed her with such ferocity there were no words. No more words. He wasn't allowed words.

Not now.

Not when he should have used them for her.

Those hours of silence were his penance.

Admittedly those days were bad. Bad enough that he hurt pushed away the thoughts and the syllables.

The other days were worse. When a new song was on the radio or a new commercial would air during the game.

That's when it would start.

Was that song playing as she danced with someone new?

Was she snuggled up to a warm body as that commercial played?

Was she?

Was she?

She wasn't waiting.

Winter North of Florida got incrementally harder. Here it was a harsh thing. The mountains were hounded by the sky, perfectly matching his moods. Firewood was a must; he perhaps went slightly overboard, having gone through two axes.

A good thing.

A perfect thing.

Snow and ice and hard labor, he would take it and cherish it and pass the days in a blur.

It had been the last push of winter into spring when he had gotten the call.

An unassuming afternoon, he had stomped into the Ranger station, snow and slush a messy trail behind him, when the shrill of the phone had jolted him.

A friend of a friend of a cousin of a co-worker, a man he didn't know, a name he couldn't remember, had dispassionately detailed events as they had played out in Miami.

September to March had been a collection of days he had no connection to.

There had been then and now.

With her; without her.

And then with that phone call everything had changed.

The drive to DC had been made in record time. Only concern for her had reined him in, clinging to some semblance of protocol he had made the necessary calls, gone through the proper procedures and reached someone who could help, someone with answers.

He hadn't trusted himself to do things right, to do things carefully, so he had turned to his old commander, a man he trusted.

The risks were outrageous but he had had to know.

A thick file was presented to him, an hour given to absorb, and in sixty minutes everything, _everything_, upended.

Names and dates and actions and convictions; it was all there. Florida had seen a sharp rise in the apprehension and conviction of members of the once powerful Crypt Kings.

There had not been words; again she had stunned them from him.

Oh, the fallout had been tremendous. Under threat of prosecution, of violence, he had been ordered to stay away.

Stay away from Miami; from her.

Away and away and away.

After a night in lock-up, the man he trusted was not one to mess with; it had begun to sink in. There was still a threat to him, still three left of ten, but he would not risk her, never her, not a hair on her head for his life.

Only there were eyes open to the situation. People were in place, who appreciated what was being done, and precautions had been taken, it was those words that had managed to calm him.

In that calm he had begun to process the information had begun to plot and plan and hone the self-control that would be need through the final three.

Three.

Three.

One.

Agonizing.

Two.

Gut wrenching.

Three.

And it was finally, painfully, over.

He had waited and waited and waited; for her, and in the sun and sand the final few moments were some of the longest he had endured.

Perhaps it was the set of her shoulders, or the sway of her hair in the breeze, but he had known it was her, had known the second she had appeared on the deck.

It was day One of her Seven.

Could it be theirs?

Would it be theirs?

He had no assurances, no real proof that any of what she did had been anything other than cleaning up the trash.

Could it be for him?

Would it be for him?

When Horatio had sent him the ticket he had given no indication of where her head was at, and Calleigh had one of the best poker faces in the game, rivaled only by Caine himself.

There had been no question that he would come. Was there a possibility that he could be rejected; again?

Yes, but he would risk that pain, had lived through it once, and would again because there was a chance, a hint, that maybe, maybe.

She had waited.

God, he couldn't think it properly, had to turn his eyes away and let them settle on the beach.

Among the people and the umbrellas he saw life and love and laughter, and wished he could reach out and draw some of into him.

He was always cold these days.

Even with his shirt billowing open to the warmest of ocean breezes he was chilled.

If he were a better man, a stronger one, he would walk away now. Put space and distance between him and her, giving her a chance at something bigger and better than him.

But he had never been a good enough man for her.

Taking his first step towards the bungalow, he thought maybe this time, he could be.


	3. Even Keel

What a pain in the butt this chapter was to get through. I apologize for the delay in updating but I was going to one way and then decided to go another and this was the result. I hope it works for you, please let me know.

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"Hello beautiful."

-Hello-Hello-Hello-Hello-

The alcohol had done its job, only the good stuff for the tenants of these bungalows.

-Hello-

It had to be the rum.

-Hello-

Or the tequila.

-Beautiful-

The hurricane glass in her hand was solid and real, the yellow liquid inside potent, magic, it had given her this.

It had to be that, had to be the drink because Jake couldn't be here, wouldn't be here.

-Beautiful-

It was cruel the tricks her mind could play how vivid her imagination could be, but not like this; never like this.

The jeans, the shirt and God the hair, so right, so vivid; the sunshine, stupid, lovely sunshine lit him up; so handsome.

The following rush of blood between her legs blindsided her.

The warmth of her embarrassment spread across her face. How could she? How dare she?

Her eyes screwed shut.

All at once she felt it, the tight twist of desire. Adrenaline, endorphins, fucking lust raced through her veins; her nipple hardened, her scalp tightened, she felt everything.

No, no, no, no.

Didn't matter; her arguments were rebuffed, logic and sanity overridden by the potential, albeit phantom, lover before her.

-Hello-

Jake, she wanted Jake; never more in that instant than in anytime since he had left. Words and lips and breaths, God; she fucking wanted him.

Touch and taste and cock.

-Jake-Hello-Jake-Jake-

"Jake."

And then it was real, his name spilling out, pulling the pain and longing and everything out through her teeth. Had she said aloud?

-No-

Not in months, never out loud, couldn't wouldn't; too dangerous, too real to speak those four letters.

His name fell.

A big oily mess at her feet; the nausea pushing the last of the wound through, she could breathe now.

"Jake."

She didn't want that.

The alcohol should be nicer to her, it had cost her enough.

"Calleigh."

Pleading, desperate, so, so real; perhaps a little scratchier than she remembered, evocative of a voice that hadn't been used so much.

-Hello beautiful-

-Shit-shit-shit-shit-

Panic welled up in her belly clutching her insides.

-Fuck-Fuck-Fuck-Fuck-

-It wasn't-

-It hadn't been-

"Jake."

Blinking back the sun and there he still was.

Jake was there. Jake was here.

Jake

Jake

"Jake."

With a thud her drink fell from her hand.

An impossibility; Jake here, right here.

"Hello beautiful."

And there it was that amused lilt that fucking crooked grin.

-Holy Mary Mother of God-

The movement across the deck to where he stood by the short set of stairs was an exercise in strength and determination.

No one, _no one_, should ever move when their blood was pounding so hard. It couldn't be safe or health or sane, but she had to.

_She_ had to move to him.

Her.  
Calleigh.  
Beautiful.

Him, Jake, right there, here, three steps separated them; then two.

An even keel; his dark boots partially hidden in the too white sand, without the steps he would have towered over her.

"You're here."

Here with her. Lightly, absolutely terrified he would vanish, she reached for him. Fingertips on his cheeks, palm on the warm hollows of his throat were tangible; a confirmation.

"Calleigh."

Her touch pushed his control; his eyes shut, jaw clenched, but she wanted his fists to uncurl, to roam her body.

Here.

Now.

"Jake."

Exhaled on a fresh breath steadier, calmer, she focused on the four letters.

Wrapped herself in the low rumble of his laughter when he would sneak up on her in the kitchen, the grin, her favorite, a little crooked and a whole lot of lopsided but perfect.

"Calleigh."

And that she remembered the short, tight burst of her name.

-Calleigh-

Short and tight and clipped when he was angry.

-Calleigh-

Long and low and warm when her lips were wrapped around his cock.

-Calleigh-

Bright and high and clear when he was amused.

""Fuck. Calleigh."

-Fuck. Calleigh-

Accent thicker, syllables longer, it was frustration and desperation, she hated that –Calleigh- hated that he had worked so hard to reach her he had changed the very timbre of her name.

He was here. Jake was here.

Catching up finally, her body reacted and she threw herself at him.

With an 'oompf' he caught her. At once her reactions spilled out. Tears and laughter and questions; over and over he said her name.

Pressing kissed to every bit of skin he could find he reassured her that he was here and real and as alive and hers for as long as she wanted.

"Always Jake."

-Always-

That was how she wanted him; for always and forever.


	4. H and Wolfe

I don't even know where this came from but I wanted to wrap my ficlet up with a happy ending. If anyone reads this pairing please let me know what you think. I own nothing and mean no harm.

"Mr. Wolfe."

Ryan turned to his left, inclining his head in welcome, "Horatio."

"She looks beautiful doesn't she?" H had been nostalgic all night, had in fact been pleased with the turn of events since they had unfolded.

"That she does," and Calleigh was beyond beautiful. She was radiant, beaming, all those vanilla adjectives that he had thought were just that were absolutely true in regards to the dancing woman.

"We have all come so far," again with low murmur of satisfaction he watched H cast his gaze over all in attendance.

"That we have," and it was not hard to agree with. Every member of their team had changed in the past year and a half. Since that series of cases that had taken so much from them.

But tonight was not a night for those memories it was a night to make new ones; Ryan watched H move up towards the newly wedded couple, and slide easily between bride and groom.

"Ryan," taking the hand that offered he noted that the groom kept his eyes on his bride, "Jake."

Jake and Calleigh, he felt like he had played a small part in helping them find their way to each other. Being a romantic was not practical in their line of work, so often they saw how romance could end.

Seeing how Jake and Calleigh how made their own ending gave him hope.

Ryan snagged a flute of champagne from a passing server, handing it to his left, "You got yourself a beautiful bride," Jake met his glass with a smile.

"That I do," they sipped and watched her dance with H.

"I still don't know why man," Ryan, surprised, looked over at Jake, "I mean she could have had anyone," Ryan knew Jake knew what had almost happened between Calleigh and Delko, "but still."

And that's where it got confusing and sort of awesome. Calleigh really could have had any of them. Hell, Ryan could admit to harboring a slight crush.

Jake had been the one though, her one, and that was what mattered. Ryan might not get it, but he sure as hell wanted it.

Sending Calleigh off on her 'vacation' had been one hell of a risk. Everyone had known what Calleigh had struggled with given the scope of what Jake had sacrificed and sending her off to meet him could have been a disaster.

They had returned together hand in hand walking through Miami International and everyone, the entire team had turned up to greet them, knew that the opposite of disaster had occurred.

Calleigh had even given into Jake's suggestion and eloped on the island right then and there. Ryan's jaw had literally dropped at that, the thought of Calleigh being so impulsive was mind boggling.

H had taken it in stride, smiling that smile of his and wrapping his girl in a hug and insisted they do it right and do it right away.

Ryan had suspected, given the speed with which this celebration had come together, if H had not had some idea that a union like this might have been in the cards.

H had passed Calleigh off to Kyle with a flourish that him laughing along with Jake.

As one song ended, Jake put his empty glass down on the nearest surface, "I do believe I've been apart from my bride for too long," he strolled out onto the dance floor and Calleigh met him with a kiss.

"We did well H," Ryan clinked another glass with another man he called friend and smiled.

"That we did Mr. Wolfe. That we did."


End file.
